I feel I've proclaimed summer is upon us about five times already this year, but here I am again. The first proclamation happened when a car full of high school stoners got arrested on my stoop for hot boxing their car on Venice Blvd. Smart. The second when Robyn came into town, bringing warm breezes and the return of Sunday Funday. The third, our first trip of '08 to Big Dean's and the return of live music on the pier. I was wrong on all occasions. This past weekend was the official start of summer in Venice.
One, I went swimming this weekend. In the ocean. At night. With the dog. Obviously alcohol was involved.
Two, Da planned our first Venice to Santa Monica Bar Cycle of the summer. Started at the Whaler, hit Baja, Bar Jota (potty and beer break), James Beach, then Bitburger, Big Dean's, and King's Head. Please see my twitter for random, drunken updates.
Three, Sunday Funday has returned in full force. Le Deb calls on her way to the beach, "Uh, are you home? (pause) OK, good. Can I stop by to use your bathroom? Yeah, I'm like right outside."
After watching the Wizards lose to the Cavs, Jota and I made our way to the beach (south of the big guard tower). It seemed that every 15 minutes or so, someone new showed up. By the end of the day we had about 10 chairs, and 10 blankets sprawled across the sand along with beach toys and gossip mags.
Four, it was fucking hot out. Like 90 hot. It's April people. Venice only gets two or three super hot days a summer, and that's usually in July or August. Jota came home from band practice last night to me, sprawled on the couch in boy shorts and a tank with the fan on high. Even Duff was too hot to snuggle; he was passed out under the coffee table.
Five, I ate the most disgusting shit all weekend. Quesadilla for lunch on Sat, burger and fries for dinner. At least ten beers, one mojito. Smoothie (yeah!) and a Choco Taco for breakfast Sunday. Another burger and fries for dinner with two beers. At least I did Cindy and pilates this weekend. Officially on a detox this week.